


an unstoppable pilot meets an immovable gene

by ruralfishingcat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Pick-Up Lines, Canon Compliant, Diabetes, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Needles, POV Lance (Voltron), Pre-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 15:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12728958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruralfishingcat/pseuds/ruralfishingcat
Summary: Lance knew he was different from the others on the team, but he tried not to let it consume his thoughts. He found it a lot more difficult when his own body was working against him, though.





	an unstoppable pilot meets an immovable gene

It was one of those days, the kind that began with being roused from sleep by a panicked yell. It meant rushed preparation and snappy conversation that was likely to continue for the remainder of the mission, sometimes even the day. Still groggy and half asleep even hours later—why had they not at least taken the time to make coffee?—Lance hadn’t connected the still present exhaustion to anything beyond obvious sleep deprivation. It wasn’t abnormal for them to be forced into disrupting their normal circadian rhythm; saving the world regrettably wasn’t well scheduled, or really scheduled at all. He really needed to make Voltron a planner, maybe color coded to match their Lions. His thoughts were rudely interrupted with another wave of dizziness. The lingering weariness persisted as he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore it. It worked, until he nearly crashed Blue into the Green Lion. The team was already 1/4th of the way to Nomorunto, but it suddenly seemed eons away. Lance swallowed back his nausea and gripped his controls tighter, swerving Blue at the last possible second to avoid an unfortunate collision. 

“Uh, seriously?” Pidge’s annoyed voice rang over the comms. “We’re in literal _space_ and you still manage to almost hit one of the only four other objects nearby?”

“Sorry,” Lance croaked, and how was he so winded? They were literally sitting down and relaxing as they piloted. It was the equivalent to being out of breath while watching television—and he was _not_ old enough for that to be okay. His head throbbed with pain, and he was about to whine about it over the comm when the realization hit him; he had forgotten his insulin shot that morning. Almost instantaneously, he felt his skin prickle with nervous goosebumps and he shivered. He racked his hazy brain for a memory of the last time he had injected the insulin, vaguely recalling that he had skipped last night after accidentally falling asleep on the couch and being too tired to bother with it. At the time, he had brushed it off, figuring he could wait until morning. 

It was past morning now, though, hours into the afternoon.

Had it he injected it yesterday morning? His foggy brain couldn’t recall.

“Lance apologizing? Did we fall into another wormhole?”

“Funny, Keith,” Lance said weakly. 

“Uh, buddy, you don’t sound so hot,” Hunk said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I just need a moment to…” Lance fumbled for the bottle of insulin that he religiously kept in his left pocket. His heart dropped to his stomach when felt nothing but air. “Oh, _quiznak_.”

Lance’s eyes darted across the ship, looking desperately for where it must have fallen out when he had veered away from Pidge. The bottle lay in the far corner, tipped over on its side but thankfully still sealed. He breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to stand up to gather it, silently asking Blue to pilot herself in the meantime. He managed to stand briefly before falling back into the chair with a gasp. Shit.

“Lance?” Shiro’s voice entered the comms. “Is everything okay?”

Lance cleared his throat. “Does anyone have a protein bar I could eat or something? It’s okay if it’s one of the gross non-chocolate ones. I don’t hold grudges.”

“Are you serious? You _still_ call me your rival.” Lance brushed that comment off. 

“Lance!”

“It’s good, Hunk,” Lance slurred. “Keith, buddy? You hoarding the goods?”

“This is ridiculous,” Keith snapped, and wow, could the guy ever take a joke? Who did he think he was talking about Lance holding grudges when Keith’s entire existence was a grudge against life itself? “Why would I be carrying around a protein bar in space? We’re already holding enough dead weight, apparently.”

Shiro warningly said, “Keith…”

“To be fair,” Pidge said, sounding almost amused by the whole situation now that she was flying far from Lance and thus safe from potential impact. “Why would you be flying in a mechanical cat in space? And yet, here we all are. Isn’t science wonderful?”

“I don’t know if I’d call that _science_ ,” Hunk said. “More like a fever dream coming alive.”

“Shut up, Hunk. Everything is science.”

“Please, guys,” Lance said. Normally he’d jump at the chance to tease Pidge and ask her why she didn’t just marry science if she loved it so much, but he couldn’t find the energy to do so.

“Lance, this isn’t a _joke_ ,” Keith said. “We can’t just pause our mission because you’re hungry!”

“Bro, you’ve got to tell them,” Hunk pleaded.

“Tell us what?” Pidge said. “How he wants his eggs?”

“Guys,” Shiro said, ever the voice of reason. “Ease up. I know it’s been a long day, but the bickering isn’t going to help anyone. We’ll get something for you to eat after the mission is over, okay Lance?”

“Not okay,” he said feebly.

Keith scoffed. “Wow.”

“If you don’t tell them I will!”

“Hunk, bro! You can’t just betray me like that!” A second wave of dizziness hit, prompting Lance to accidentally jolt his controls with his elbow and nearly bump into the Black Lion this time.

“Lance…are you okay?” Shiro’s concerned voice crackled over the comms.

“No! That’s what I’ve been telling you guys! I’ll just…can you guys…? I’ll meet you back at the Castle.”

“I don’t know if you should be flying right now,” Hunk said quietly. “You might hurt yourself.”

There was a pause in the communications before Pidge asked softly, “Lance, are you diabetic?”

Lance wheezed out what he hoped to be a realistic laugh. It didn’t sound remotely convincing when it reached his ears. He felt black spots flicker in and out of his vision like an ominous warning of what was to come. He gripped the arms of his chair, lurching forward to rest his weight on his elbows. “Whaaaaat? Girl, you tripping.”

“Lance, get back to the Castle _now_ ,” Keith said, and there was pure panic lacing his tone. 

“C’mon Keith, what happened to not pausing the mission?” Lance tried to offer his signature smirk, even if the others couldn’t actually see it; it was the principle of it, really.

“Lance, I’m serious,” Keith said. “Get back NOW.”

“Yeesh,” Lance said. “Yes, mom.”

He turned Blue around, wincing at the amount of energy it took for the simple action. He counted to ten over and over in his head to stabilize himself, cursing every time he forgot a number and had to begin again. He was nearly back to the Castle when he noticed the Yellow Lion trailing closely behind him, guarding his back like a mother.

“Hunk, what are you doing! The others need you back there.”

“Dude, _you_ need me,” Hunk said. “If you pass out in the Castle, Allura and Coran aren’t going to know how to help you.”

Lance grimaced, haphazardly parking his lion which emitted a lurching noise. Were things normal, Keith would have made a snarky comment about his abilities. On the line, the others were uncomfortably silent. Lance could only hear the thundering of his head through the overwhelming silence. He stumbled out of the Lion, hands gripping his helmet as if it would somehow grant him balance. He took a few steps and fell to his knees, hissing from the impact of the ground.

Hunk was there in seconds. He called out across the ship: “Allura! Get me something to eat _now_.”

Her face appeared in the doorway. “Right now?”

“Yes!” Hunk pulled Lance up by the shoulders and guided him over to the Yellow Lion to lean against. The hard, cool metal felt nice against his back. “It’s okay, buddy. Where’s your insulin?”

“On the floor of Blue,” Lance coughed out. “Jesus, I’m thirsty.”

“We’ll get you some water in a minute,” Hunk promised. He darted into Blue and scoured the floor, quickly finding the small bottle of insulin and the needle that was taped to it. He carried it back and began removing Lance’s chest plate.

“Take a guy out to dinner first,” Lance said with a pained grin. Hunk rolled his eyes and shoved Lance’s under armor shirt up his chest.

Allura’s footsteps came hurrying and she appeared around the corner with a plate filled to the brim with various types of food goo. “I wasn’t sure what to bring so I grabbed a few things—Lance, are you okay?”

“He will be,” Hunk said, filling the needle with insulin and injecting it into Lance’s abdomen.

Allura nearly dropped the food, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my.”

“Shit,” Lance hissed, his body going lax against the Lion. He took a shuddering breath. 

“Is everything okay?” Pidge’s wavering voice called out. “Are you two back to the Castle?”

“We’re fine,” Hunk said, taking the plate from Allura and mouthing a ‘thank you’. “Here, eat something.”

Lance blinked a few times, head still hazy. He grabbed the fork and shoveled in some of the purple food goo. Albeit a weird color for food, it looked the most normal. It tasted a bit like chalk, though. Somehow. “Thanks, buddy.”

Allura crouched on the ground and watched him curiously. “What was that shot?”

“Insulin,” Lance said and shot her a leer. “I’m just so sweet that my body can’t take it.”

An annoyed cough made its presence known from Keith’s comm. Hunk snorted and spoke into the comms: “Yeah, he’s fine guys.”

There were numerous sighs of relief sent back.

“He has Type 1 Diabetes,” Hunk explained. “It’s a genetic disease back on Earth.”

“Fascinating,” Coran mused, and when had he even gotten there? Lance stopped caring though, when Coran handed him a pouch of water.

“Yeah, not the word I would use to describe it,” Lance said between a mouthful of food as he gratefully took the water. “More like a pain in my ass.”

“That’s five words,” Keith said quietly, voice strained. 

“We’ll be back at the Castle in the next few hours,” Shiro said. “We’ll finish heading toward Nomorunto and securing the port. Thank you, Hunk. Take it easy, Lance.”

“No problem,” Hunk said, but Lance could hear the still lingering fear in his tone. He turned off his comm; Allura and Coran could be reached if help was needed.

“So, this diabetes,” Allura said. “It makes Lance hungry?”

Hunk winced. 

Lance looked on in sympathy. He had never had to explain diabetes, having taking it for granted that people on Earth just knew about it. He wished there was a Wikipedia in space. Maybe Pidge could make one; Lance would make her call it ‘Spacepedia’.

“It means his body can’t produce insulin properly and turn his sugars into energy. He has to take shots of insulin in order to balance out the sugar levels in his system. If he doesn’t, well. Today happens.”

Coran frowned and twirled his mustache thoughtfully. “Why didn’t you take your insulin today, Lance?”

Lance rolled his eyes and sipped the drink, his parched throat thanking him. He knew it wasn’t their intent, but the conversation was beginning to feel like an interrogation, reminiscent to his childhood whenever he was unintentionally careless and scolded by his mother. The similarity provided him a twitch of nostalgia and a whole lot more of frustration. “Yeah, in all the free time we had when we were called to form Voltron at FOUR IN THE MORNING and had to keep fighting for hours.”

Hunk glanced at the time; 2 PM. Lance watched him flinched. Lance’s insulin shots lasted up to sixteen hours on a good day, but today had been pushing it hard. 

“And insulin,” Allura said. “How do you acquire it?”

“Pharmacy on Earth,” Lance said casually, as though he hadn’t nearly passed out while flying a mechanical cat in space—as Pidge put it. Man, Voltron was weird. “I had some on me when we found Blue—always do. Hunk over here though, greatest buddy in the universe, light of my life.”

“Get on with it, Lance,” Hunk said fondly. 

“Right. He was handy enough to find a space equivalent at that weird mall we went to. He picked me up like, at least a year’s supply.” Lance relaxed his shoulders and slid the plate a few inches away from him. He hoped the others would get the hint; despite being still slightly hungry, he didn’t think he could handle more of the chalky substance. “I’m all good. You guys can stop fawning over me—except for you, Princess.”

Allura rolled her eyes at his wink, standing up and dusting off her knees. “I see. I’m going back to the control room if you’re healthy enough to flirt.”

“Aww, we were having a moment! You didn’t even let me finish my list of diabetes puns! I may have type one but baby, you’re my type, too.”

“She’s already gone, buddy,” Hunk said.

“Quiznak,” Lance said with a sigh. “And that was my best one.”

“I’m sure the others will let you tell it again when they get back.”

Lance looked over to Hunk. “Thanks, man. You really saved me back there. I owe you one.”

“It’s not about owing me anything—I know you’d do the same for me.” Hunk looked thoughtful for a moment before he grimaced. “Why wouldn’t you just tell them, though? None of us are going to hold that kind of thing against you. You know they aren’t like that.”

“Maybe Keith is,” Lance said softly. He hated always being second best to Keith, and the thought that he was behind even in _genetics_ was infuriating. Back at the Garrison and being compared to his peers was rough, but as a paladin of Voltron the scrutiny was next level. 

“You heard him on the comm,” Hunk said, scooting over to Lance and sitting next to him. He rested his arm on his knee and sent Lance a meaningful look. “He kept telling you to get back to the Castle.”

Lance snorted. “Yeah, so that he could save the day again.”

Hunk’s frown deepened. “Man, he’s not like that.”

“Seems like it,” Lance grumbled. “He sure doesn’t try to deny it.”

Hunk was quiet for a moment before he turned on both his and Lance’s comms. Lance was about to question it when Hunk silently put a finger to his own lips, shushing him.

“He said he was okay,” Allura voice rang out, her tone gentle as if trying to placate the others, or at least the single annoyed voice that was practically talking over her.

“I don’t care what he said he was! Is he _actually_ okay?”

“Keith, if he’s talking then that’s already better than when he was out here flying,” Pidge said. She sounded worlds calmer than Keith. “He could barely finish a sentence earlier.”

“Better, sure, but that doesn’t mean okay.”

Shiro’s voice interrupted. “Keith, Hunk will take care of Lance. Keep your focus on the mission.”

Keith let out a sigh that crackled with heavy static. “Yes, sir.”

Hunk gave Lance a pointed look, gesturing dramatically with his hands. They both turned off their comms.

“He doesn’t want me out of commission and holding back Voltron,” Lance said finally. Nothing new there. “It’s whatever.”

It wasn’t whatever, but he didn’t want to think about Keith’s response. It left him with a queasy stomach, a state which he could no longer attribute to his heavy hunger or sugar levels. Keith’s words had sounded so angry over the comms, so bitter. Lance was not looking forward to how he was going to sound in person, and directed at him nonetheless.

“Oh my God,” Hunk said and stood up. “I’m so not having this conversation with you again. Come on, we have a few hours until everyone gets back. I’ll cook you something.”

“Ugh, a man after my own heart,” Lance said, accepting the extended hand and pulling himself tall. The two headed toward the kitchen, atmosphere amiable.

 

-

 

The three remaining paladins arrived back at the Castle a good two hours later, eyes strained and expressions slack. Lance was certainly not jealous; it looked as though the mission had been a particularly frustrating one, though it may have had something to do with the fact that Voltron had been down nearly half its team. Lance felt a pinch of guilt for drawing Hunk away, too, but he knew if he voiced those thoughts then Hunk would simultaneously scold and reassure him. And God knew how long that would take. Lance had considered taking a nap or even retiring for the night all together, but he figured today was a good a day as any to shift his sleep schedule into more normal terms especially with the early morning. He and Hunk were in the kitchen still lounging when the others clambered in. 

All eyes were immediately on Lance, who bristled. 

Pidge was first: “I’m really sorry, Lance. I should have realized sooner.”

Lance shrugged. “I don’t usually forget to take my insulin. It’s not super obvious.”

“We should have listened to you,” Shiro said, and God his face looked so guilty. How dare Lance put that expression on Space-Dad’s face. It was like when parents said they weren’t angry but disappointed, but it was even worse because the parents were putting the blame on themselves and it was always so unsettling to see parents look that distraught. “I’m sorry for brushing you off.”

“Guys, really,” Lance said. He appreciated the apologies, but they also were making him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t mind teasing, and once the others had caught on they stopped immediately. Like he had said to Pidge, it wasn’t a part of him that he wanted to others to know about. Hunk had already known, of course, having been Lance’s friend for so long. He had kept it a secret during their stay at Galaxy Garrison per Lance’s request, only so much as hinting at it if he thought something was amiss. A part of him hoped, unrealistically, that everyone would somehow forget about it and go back to blissful ignorance. At least then they would just assume that Lance was naturally useless, instead of having a tangible reason to attribute his failure to, one that would now haunt his every subsequent mistake. “I’m fine. The bottle just slipped out of my pocket and I couldn’t reach it.”

Pidge pursed her lips. “I’m going to build you an armor upgrade that lets you store the bottle inside. Expect it ready by the time you’re heading to bed—timer starts now!”

She dashed off but it brought a smile to Lance’s face. He turned back to face the others, in particular Keith who hadn’t said a word since their arrival. Shiro glanced between the two and sighed.

Shiro clasped Lance on the shoulder and gave him an earnest, protective expression. “I’ll be in my room if you need something. And remember that all of us care, okay? You can always talk to any of us, Lance. You never have to go through anything alone.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Lance said and watched him head off in the opposite direction Pidge had.

Silence overtook the room.

“Well then,” Hunk said. “I don’t have a clever excuse to explain me leaving so now that you’re all better Lance, I’m just going to straight up exit. See you guys.”

“Hunk!” Lance called out, but he was already gone. “You dirty traitor!”

Lance was brought back to the moment with the scratch of a chair against the floor. He looked over to where Keith had sat down next to him and scooted closer. Keith sat sideways on the chair, facing Lance. His finger tapped nervously on his thigh while he trained his eyes on the wall. 

Lance swallowed and turned back to his plate of what was supposed to be brownies. They tasted fantastic, but they held no resemblance to the actual dessert in all facets of life; they were a sickly grey color and shapeless. But damn if they didn’t hit the spot, especially after the nightmare that was the purple chalk goo. 

“I’m sorry, Lance,” Keith said after a few minutes of silence save for Lance idly scraping his fork against the plate. The quiet had been so uncomfortable and awkward that he felt obligated to fill it with something—anything, even if it meant listening to an annoying, grating noise. “I…I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Oh man,” Lance said with a wince. “This is even more awkward than when Shiro apologized.”

Keith huffed and instinctively sent a glare toward Lance. He seemed to realize the extent of how counterproductive his actions were, though, and dropped his expression back into a more guilt-ridden one. Lance didn’t find himself enjoying it as much as his daydreams had promised him. In fact, he found himself wanting to be the one to remove it. Keith’s brows were turned down, intensifying the frown that so often graced his features. The anger seemed to be more directed at himself, though, because he couldn’t even meet Lance’s stare.

“I’m trying, okay?” Keith sucked in a breath. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t know, but that doesn’t mean I had the right to mock you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” Lance said, but it still really wasn’t whatever. He didn’t want to dwell on that train of thought, though; it was a dangerous, insecure one. “You mock me all the time.”

Keith frowned. “Yeah, but…”

“Look,” Lance said coolly, but his heart was racing so fast that he was amazed his words didn’t come out in a stutter. “I don’t want any special treatment because you guys think I’m all fragile and can’t handle my own anymore—especially not from you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Keith insisted. 

“Yeah, it is,” Lance said and he felt all the anger flowing through him. All the fury that stemmed from how different he felt from everyone, how heavily his piloting career was contingent on his disease’s secrecy, and how the team managed to turn it around on him and make him feel guilty for not saying anything, had suddenly burst open like a dam. He felt himself drowning in it, water icy and violently enveloping. “Jesus, and you wonder why I never bothered to tell you guys! One time— _one time_ I forget my insulin and it’s like I’m a broken China doll. Excuse me for wanting to be treated like a person and not a handicap to Voltron.”

“That’s _not_ how I see you,” Keith said, his voice nearly a bite. His eyebrows were digging into the inches above his eyelids, giving a sloped arc that Lance wanted to trace delicately with the tips of his fingers. Because he was still Lance and Keith was still Keith, though, he found himself also wanting to push the other away. An added element of physicality meant being able to push down his less than ideal emotions, the ones that sought out visits of paralyzing fear and devastating anger. He could inject his movements with heated emotion and pretend that they were fostered from that rather than his thoughts. “Is that…is that really how you think we see you? As just a means to an ends for Voltron?”

The rush of negativity escaped him, seeping from his pores and leaving him feeling empty and restless. Lance frowned, confused both with himself and with Keith. “Uh, yeah?”

“Jesus,” Keith said, letting out a long breath. He looked up at Lance, his eyes almost blocked by his overgrown bangs. Lance wondered how Keith would react if he just reached out and brushed the hair out of his face, and wow, thanks intrusive thoughts. “Lance, yes, you’re a part of Voltron, but it doesn’t define you. No one thing could possibly be enough to define you. Even if you weren’t piloting I—we—would still um _care_ about you.”

“Wow,” Lance said. “No need to force it out of yourself.”

Keith sighed and ran a hand through his hair, disrupting the order of his bangs. A few of the wispy hairs near his ear stuck up, and Lance couldn’t look away. “It’s not that I’m forcing it. I’m just bad at this whole…” He gestured between them.

“Human thing?”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, basically.”

“Being half-Galra doesn’t excuse it,” Lance said lightly. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes; he didn’t really want to be having this conversation, but he had a hunch that Keith wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Keith said quietly. “I really…just don’t think of yourself as a handicap, okay? We all have things that have the potential to hold us back—even Shiro. But what matters is that it hasn’t stopped us. It hasn’t stopped _you,_ Lance.”

Lance blinked his eyes open, looking at Keith with a surprised expression. Keith flushed, his eyes darting down to stare at his feet. Lance liked the way the pale pink covered his cheeks; he refused to even acknowledge the invasive thought this time around.

“Uh, wow,” Lance said and swallowed. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Keith huffed. “Don’t get used to it.”

Lance smiled softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Mullet.”

It was quiet for a few moments. Lance didn’t normally enjoy silence—in a large family it was only ever unsettling—but it was nice to relish in it for a bit after the extenuating circumstances. If nothing else, it helped ease his headache. 

“I lied to get into the Garrison, you know,” Lance said.

Keith’s head perked up, his eyes wide with questions. “What?”

“They don’t let people with diabetes be pilots,” Lance said, and it was weird hearing it out loud. He had read the devastating words on paper so many times they were practically etched into his retinas, his face ashen and expression incredulous at the injustice. They were the catalyst for one too many a nights spent in frustrated tears, bitterly wishing he had been born different. It wasn’t fair, though—he had done everything else right and put so much time and effort into it all. “They wouldn’t have let me in if they knew.”

“Whoa,” Keith said.

Lance shrugged. “The only person who knew was Hunk. He helped me cover it up.”

“I can’t believe you pulled one over on Iverson,” Keith said. And there was a fond, impressed smile on his face.Lance wanted to frame it. “I almost wish I could have seen his face when he found out, though.”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, same. But I knew I’d get kicked out if anyone else found out.”

Keith sobered. “It was really nice of Hunk to do that for you.”

“Man, Hunk is just the best,” Lance said with a sigh. “I don’t think I would have survived the Garrison without him keeping that secret for me.” 

Keith looked down and fidgeted with his fingers. 

Lance raised an eyebrow and watched him curiously. Keith usually wasn’t restless—if anyone was, it was Lance. It was weird seeing him so far out of his element. It almost made him seem more, well, human, even if he _was_ half alien. 

“I would have,” he eventually said, so soft it was almost lost in the steady sound of their breathing.

“Uh, what?”

Keith swallowed and looked up with determined, loyal eyes. “If I had known, at the Garrison. I would have kept your secret.”

“Oh,” Lance said and he couldn’t remember a time since puberty that his voice had sounded so strained and high pitched. “Thanks, man.”

Keith rolled his eyes. Lance watched Keith’s throat stutter minutely as he cleared it. “You don’t have to thank me for something that didn’t even happen. I just…wanted you to know, okay?”

“Aww, is Mullet getting all uncomfortable from affection?” Lance wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in, extending his arms. “Do you need a hug to make it all better?”

“Oh my God, you’re the worst.”

“Nope, too late,” Lance said. His chair screeched as he scooted closer, the two of them wincing at the noise. The joking mood ebbed quickly, only the dust of laughter remaining. Lance caught Keith’s gaze. “I mean, I don’t have to. I don’t actually want to make you more uncomfortable…”

Keith bit his lip before launching himself forward, pressing his face into Lance’s chest and wrapping arms around his waist.

“O-oh,” Lance said. He slowly wrapped his own arms around Keith’s shoulders. He nudged his head closer to Keith’s neck; it smelled faintly of sweat and pomegranate. Was space pomegranate a thing? He’d have to ask Keithlater when they weren’t in an embrace bent on short-circuiting Lance’s brain. “That works, too.”

“You really scared us back there,” Keith mumbled, likely speaking through fabric by now. “It’s not…that’s not something the healing pod can just fix.”

“Yeah,” Lance said quietly, because that thought had crossed his mind consistently since they had left Earth. It was honestly a miracle Hunk had found what he had at the space mall. “But I’m okay.”

Keith nodded into his shirt. The heat of his face burned into Lance’s chest. 

Finally close enough to do so, Lance slid one of his hands up Keith’s shoulder and neck. He let it rest at the hair just next to Keith’s ear where he had been staring previously. He gently tucked a stubborn strand behind Keith’s ear, his thumb brushing past the skin in the process. He heard Keith’s breath hitch, a small gasp escaping him.

Lance panicked. He pulled back and threw his hands underneath his chair, using the leverage to drag it away from Keith. “Sorry! Sorry! It was just, in the way.”

Keith blinked, his face just the slightest bit red. Had Lance not known Keith, he wouldn’t have even noticed it. But it was definitely there. And God, his hands were still hanging woefully in the air, held at the slightest angle. “Lance?”

"Wow,” Lance said and stared determinedly at his bare wrist, fixated on an uneven mole. “Would you look at that time? I should really get to bed, rest these old bones, you know? Hit the hay, beat the sheets.” Oh God why did all of his phrases sound sexual, what was he _doing_.

“It’s like, four-thirty…” Keith tried to inch closer.

“It’s got to be like, midnight _somewhere_ in the world,” Lance said. Great, he was babbling. “Okay, great talk, buddy. Goodnight!”

He was surprised at how quickly his feet moved him toward his room, especially with how weak he had felt earlier. Anxiety was a formidable opponent, but also a great motivator. Lance flung himself onto his bed face down and groaned into his pillow. Why did he do that? Why did he do any of what he just did? He just…hadn’t expected that such a noise would—could even _come_ from Keith—be given in response to him just tucking some hair behind an ear—and behind Keith’s ear nevertheless. It was far, far too intimate a noise for the simple action. 

Of course, he had also touched Keith’s ear with his thumb. And when he replayed the scene over in his mind and thought about it a little, he came away with two distinct conclusions. One, he was unfairly turned on. And two, it _did_ seem a little intimate, a little _couple like._ That was what couples did before they kissed, wasn’t it. 

Lance groaned again. He wondered if the pillow would take pity and smother him.

“Stupid useless thing,” Lance mumbled a few minutes later when he was unmistakably still breathing. “I’ve got to do everything around here.”

His body tensed when he heard footsteps nearing his room. They paused for a moment before heading off. Lance let out a silent breath of relief, having never been so glad to have remembered to turn off the lights in his bedroom. Or at least, neglected to turn them on in the first place. 

Eventually, despite the early hour, he fell asleep. So much for fixing his sleep schedule.

 

-

 

When he walked out of his room the next morning, he almost stepped on something that was definitely not ground. A small, attachable gadget sat on the floor. Lance smiled and pocketed it—he should have known the footsteps yesterday would have been Pidge dropping off the upgrade, always a keeper of her word. 

Despite the cool new gadget, the day was still excruciating. Shiro was hovering over him like a helicopter parent. Allura and Coran were watching closely, still seemingly interested in the novelty of the disease. He was beginning to feel like a circus animal, kept around only for entertainment and rent money. By noon, Lance had had enough.

“I’m fine!” He snapped, startling Coran who was weirdly close to him; he was probably trying to get another prod in. Lance liked Coran, sure, but he could only be poked in the shoulders and chest so many times before his patience broke. “You guys can stop being mother hens. Jesus.”

Shiro shamefully looked away, and man why did that have to make _Lance_ feel guilty?

“We just want to make sure you’re okay, Lance,” Allura said. “Have you taken your insulin today?”

“Yeah, I have.” Lance’s shoulders dropped. The concern _was_ sweet—almost like the kind that trickled from his parents—but also exhausting. He wasn’t sure how else he was supposed to show he was fine beyond repeating himself. He just hoped they wouldn’t start a trend of asking him whether or not he had taken his insulin; he had done so his whole life and it wasn’t like he suddenly needed a babysitter. It was almost funny, how something could be done a thousand times without notice but the second it stopped, it was suddenly so vitally important, so concerning and dreadful. “And I know, but I could do without all the staring.”

Even Keith was staring at him, his eyes practically glued to Lance’s every movement. He had thought last night would have deterred Keith, made him slink around awkwardly and evade all forms of contact, but apparently it had only made him more persistent. That alone was terrifying; Keith was already troublingly stubborn.

“He’ll be okay,” Hunk said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “He’s lived through all these years with it.”

Lance let a smile grace his lips as he looked up at his best friend. At least someone understood—trusted his abilities. “Thanks, buddy.”

Honestly, what did he ever do to deserve someone as wonderful as Hunk?

“I made sure the holder would beep if his glucose levels get too low,” Pidge said as she fiddled with some disc she was essentially trying to shove into her laptop. She stopped as soon as it made an uncomfortably tinny noise, likely seconds away from breaking. Lance hoped it wouldn’t make the Castle explode or anything. “So he’s got a backup warning, too.”

“Thanks again, Pidgey.”

She snorted and finally worked the disc in, smiling triumphantly; and thus, the Castle was safe from Pidge for another day. “You can thank me by never calling me that again.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“If you’re sure you’re okay…” Shiro’s voice sounded anything but sure, Lance noted. 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lance said. He jumped to his feet and gestured toward himself. “See? Please…just don’t treat me differently.” Please don’t kick him off the team. “It’s weird. Let’s get some training in or something. I’m sick of just sitting around.”

Hunk’s stomach growled. “Maybe let’s have some food first?”

Fortunately, by the time they started eating things were mostly back to normal. Pidge and Shiro had begun a _riveting—_ read: boring—conversation about some part of the Kerberos mission that Allura and Coran intently listened in on. Lance was mostly just relieved they weren’t fussing over him anymore. He already felt enough like a seventh wheel; he didn’t think he could handle being any more distanced from the others, being shoved into the pathetic category of ‘helpless’ and ‘dependent’. Next to him, Hunk was raving about a new recipe he had discovered. Lance encouraged the tale even if he didn’t really understand what coriander was. 

Then there was Keith.

Who was _still_ staring at Lance.

“Uh…” Hunk stilled his words around the second half of the recipe. “Okay, what’s up with you and Keith?”

“What? Me? Nothing!” Lance nearly dropped his fork.

Hunk raised an eyebrow. “Dude, he’s been staring at you this entire meal. Not even scowling, just staring. What did you do to him?”

Lance frowned. “Hey. Why do you assume I did something to him?”

Hunk somehow raised his eyebrow higher.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Lance said with a huff. He tried to sneak a glance over to Keith, but he was caught immediately. He felt his nerves jump about in his chest, spurred on by the intensity of Keith’s gaze. “I don’t even know, man. I haven’t even talked to him today.”

“You did yesterday, right? After we all left?”

Lance pursed his lips. “Yeah, after you DITCHED me.”

“It was for your own good,” Hunk said, spooning another glob of food goo out of his bowl. He pointed his utensil at Lance. “So what did you talk about?”

“Just how it was at the Garrison,” Lance said with a blasé shrug. “Nothing exciting.”

Hunk made a thoughtful noise. “Maybe he realized he was in love with you.”

“Oh my GOD,” Lance hissed and shoved Hunk, who barely moved from the force. Rude. “Don’t even say that! Especially when he’s _right there_!”

Hunk laughed. “Chill out, dude. He’s not even looking at you anymore.”

Lance blinked and stole a look. Keith was pointedly staring at the wall opposite of him now, body tense and displeased. Lance hoped he hadn’t heard Hunk and gotten uncomfortable over it. 

“See?”

“Yeah, well. Still don’t say stuff like that,” Lance said. “My heart can only take so much abuse.”

Hunk smiled. “You going to talk to him?”

Lance shrugged. “I’ll probably just let him brood over there in the corner. Leave him in his natural habitat and all.”

“I think you should talk to him.” Hunk set down his spoon and watched Keith for a moment.

Lance sent him an insufferable expression. “You’re just saying that because you know I’ll feel obligated to!”

“Is it working?”

“Of course it is,” Lance said with a huff. “I’ll talk to him after lunch.”

“We’ve got training, dude. Your idea, remember?”

“Ugh. Okay, after training.”

Keith stared at him for the entirety of training. It was so distracting that Lance nearly shot a hole in the Castle wall twice. The most infuriating part of it all was that even thought Keith’s gaze was firmly stuck on him, Keith _still_ somehow didn’t mess up even the slightest bit. He fought the Gladiator without looking directly at it, listening for its movements and attacks. Lance wanted to spit on him or something. God, that was a weird thought. Why did Keith have to make everything so weird?

Shiro crept up next to him during Keith’s fight and turned to him slightly, obscuring their words. “Is everything okay between you and Keith?”

Lance crossed his arms. “What? You think I did something to him?”

Shiro raised an eyebrow. “Lance, he’s not even _looking_ at the Gladiator. Are you two fighting again?”

“No, he’s just being weird,” Lance said. “As usual.”

Shiro sighed, but let it go. “And Lance…you know we would never kick you off the team, right? You’re a part of Voltron, pilot or not. But we do want you to be a pilot.”

Lance blinked. “Even…after yesterday?”

“Of course,” Shiro said with a gentle smile. “I trust you to be on top of your insulin levels. Like Hunk said, you’ve been doing so for years.”

“I’m really not supposed to be a pilot,” Lance pointed out. He wanted to curb the self-sabotage, shut his mouth and just nod in gratitude that Shiro was keeping him on the team. The words were spilling out, though, years of doubt and insecurity overwhelming his control. He wondered if this was what it was like being Keith, being far too impulsive for his own good. “They don’t…it’s on the list of conditions that are supposed to prevent you.”

Shiro shrugged. “They probably wouldn’t allow someone with untreated PTSD to be a pilot, either, but I don’t see you guys kicking me out.”

“Of course not!” Lance said quickly. Kicking Shiro out was like shooting themselves in the foot, or the head if they were going by the official formation of Voltron. 

“Then there you have it,” Shiro said. “No one will bring it up unless you want us to, okay?”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Lance said. “I... I’ll talk to Keith, sorry.”

Shiro’s gaze wandered back to Keith, who was still staring at Lance. There was interest curled distantly beyond his eyes, but no visible sign of anger or disgust. “He feels bad. Try not to mistake that as him being annoyed with you.”

Lance almost laughed; after last night he definitely knew that Keith felt bad. The only problem was now Lance did, too, for acting so weird. “Yeah, I won’t.”

After training, Lance forced himself to linger in the area despite his growing urge to run and take solace in his own room. Everyone slowly trailed out, leaving only him and Keith in the wide expanse of the room. 

Lance crossed his arms awkwardly. “So. Hey.”

Keith didn’t even blink. “Hey.”

“You uh. Looked like you wanted to talk?”

“Why’d you run away yesterday.”

Wow; Keith did not mess around. Lance laughed uneasily. “Getting straight to the point, huh?”

“You asked,” Keith said bluntly. And yeah, Lance had, but he was starting to regret it. Who knew there would be a day when Keith was more prepared to talk about feelings than he was. 

“Guess I did,” Lance muttered. He shifted his weight from foot to foot while he thought over his options. He didn’t really know how to answer Keith’s question—which honestly was more of a command—without admitting that the thought of kissing him had lodged itself in Lance’s brain and made itself comfortably at home. 

“Well?”

“I panicked,” Lance said, because it was the truth.

Keith frowned. “Over what? I already know about the diabetes, what else is there to worry about?”

Oh, Keith. What a sweet summer child.

Lance cleared his throat. “A lot, actually.”

“Is…is there another condition you have?” Keith’s expression morphed into one of concern. “Should I go get Hunk?”

“No,” Lance said hastily. “Nothing like that. Wow this is awkward.”

Keith’s face went back to a frown. “Is it? We’re just talking.”

Just talking. When they could be kissing.

Lance groaned loudly.

Keith bristled. “I didn’t realize talking with me was that horrible.”

“What?” Lance blinked and ran the last few moments through his head for recollection. “Oh! No, I was making that noise at my brain.”

“Right,” Keith said slowly, crossing his arms. 

Lance ran a hand through his hair, grimacing as his fingers caught on bunched up strands tied together with sweat. “Man, I need a shower.”

Keith suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Uh. Did you want to go do that?”

“I mean, yeah, but we’re talking,” Lance said. Even if he didn’t want to be. Honestly, it looked like Keith was beginning to regret the conversation, too. Served him right, kind of. 

“We can meet back?”

A few extra minutes of not being forced into this increasingly painful conversation? Lance would take it.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay,” Keith said and started for the door. “Meet me in my room whenever you’re finished.”

Quiznak. So much for supposedly being in the clear. Maybe this was the penance for his treatment of Hunk during lunch. Maybe instead of showering he should go bow down to Hunk and beg for his mercy. He still had fragments of his pride, though, so he headed toward his shower and tried his best not to think of Keith, especially not of Keith staring so intently at him during training. 

It didn’t work, so he switched the shower to cold.

Lance dried his hair for an unnecessarily long time before reluctantly heading over to Keith’s room, wishing it wasn’t so close in distance to his own. There was only so long that he could reasonably linger in the maybe ten foot gap between their rooms. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Yeah?”

The door whooshed open to reveal Keith sitting patiently on his bed.

“Finished showering,” Lance said just to avoid silence.

“I can see that,” Keith said, voice bordering on amused. “Sit down or something. You’re making it weird.”

Lance sighed and sat down a good distance away from Keith for safety measures. _Two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,_ his brain supplied. Sometimes he wished he could trade his brain in for one that had never heard of memes, but then again that would generate a life without joy, so he supposed he would tolerate his own mind making fun of him. 

_For now_ , he thought, _so watch yourself brain._

Lance cleared his throat. “So, sorry for running from you the other day. But I mean, I had a good _reason—_ ”

_“_ It was four-thirty!”

Lance shrunk in on himself. “Okay, yeah. I guess I don’t have a good reason then.”

Was not being able to handle the noise Keith made a good reason? He wasn’t sure, and he wasn’t willing to ask. 

Keith made a frustrated sound and rubbed his hands over his face before dropping them. He looked over to Lance, who was surprised to see disappointment clouding Keith’s eyes. 

“I thought you were going to kiss me,” Keith said, each word spoken level to avoid any hints of inflection. 

“I. _What_?” Lance couldn’t even feel the beat of his heart anymore, could only hear it thrumming to a mercurial pulse against his head. Was this what dying was like?

Keith scowled. “I get it now, okay? It was a stupid thought.”

“No, no, no, wait. Are you saying you wouldn’t have punched me if I had? You _wanted_ me to kiss you?”

“I didn’t say that,” Keith said in a grumble. “Why would I punch you?”

“I don’t know,” Lance said. “For invading your space?”

Keith huffed out a laugh. “Dude, we were already hugging.”

“Yeah, well,” Lance said weakly. “I hug everyone. I don’t go around kissing everyone.”

“You sure?” Keith teased, and all the tension in Lance’s body just dropped. When he thought about it, it was a bit silly; Keith had never punched him before regardless of how much Lance would provoke and annoy him. Intimacy was new territory, though, a rush of uncertainty that forced its way from Lance’s chest and lungs. It could bring both the best and the worst out in others, and until recently Keith’s reaction had been nothing more than a vague assumption he tried to not linger on in order to preserve his sanity. 

“So,” Lance said. “I can kiss you?”

Keith looked nervous. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” Lance said in an exhale and shifted closer, bunching up the sheets in the process; Keith didn’t seem to care, his focus never wavering from Lance’s lips. Lance reached out to place his hand on Keith’s neck, resting his thumb just beneath the other’s ear. Keith’s breath quickened, but he was smiling.

“You can touch me,” Lance said quietly, and it felt so weird hearing those words in his own voice.

Keith gulped. “Okay.”

He brought his hand to Lance’s neck, fingers splayed out. He carried them down, brushing past Lance’s shoulders to biceps, elbow to forearm, and finally resting on his free hand, squeezing gently. With his other hand, Keith pressed it firmly against the middle of Lance’s back, holding him in place. He looked up at Lance expectantly, his eyes searching for approval. 

Lance returned the smile. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Keith’s. A jolt of surprise, anxiety, and _love_ nearly erupted from his chest. He heard Keith’s soft gasp again, but pushed closer this time, eagerly chasing the noise. Keith opened his mouth slightly, his hot breath sifting over Lance’s bottom lip. Lance lifted his fingers to tangle in Keith’s hair, stroking it. 

Lance pulled back to study Keith, whose eyes were opening and chest was heaving. He flashed a shy smile at Lance.

Lance felt it like a punch to the gut. He supposed maybe it was okay to be treated differently if it was by Keith and it included kissing. His voice came out breathier and higher than he would ever admit, “Babe, you’re so sweet I might need to take another insulin shot.”

Keith snorted out a laugh and rolled his eyes. He tugged on their still connected hands and lowered the two of them onto their sides. Lance landed with an ‘oomph’, his free hand automatically reaching out to steady himself. He looked to Keith curiously.

Keith dragged Lance’s hand to rest lightly on his waist. He then broke their grip and laid his own hand on Lance’s waist, his fingers curling possessively around him. He scooted closer and ducked his head underneath Lance’s chin, pressing his nose, which was just the slightest bit cold, against Lance’s neck.

“Keith?” Lance murmured. His fingers tapped a slow pattern into the sharp junction between Keith’s stomach and hipbone.

Keith let out a content breath. “Just rest, Lance.”

So Lance did.


End file.
